


Because I Do

by clarapaget



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Angst, I Needed to write Something, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 21:12:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17947223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarapaget/pseuds/clarapaget
Summary: Julia, Quentin, and the monster take a trip to the Temple of Esna.





	Because I Do

The invaluable proof of Quentin’s emotions sparkled in front of him; this was the path he had chosen and hell if he wasn’t gonna stick with it. He’d rather die; get strangled and maimed and distorted by the monster, then watch  _ it _ destroy Eliot’s body. Tequila, pills, almost getting slammed by a truck; Quentin couldn’t bear anything resulting in the devolution of Eliot. 

It mattered because if the monster destroyed Eliot’s body; made him have to suffer under the pain of seeing Eliot writhe… he just wouldn’t be able to manage it, cope with it. It mattered because Quentin cared too much, cared so much about Eliot, and about his well being. After the death, or rather, tragic murder of Mike, Eliot had consumed himself; drunk himself into oblivion. Then, Quentin had been worried, but not as terrified as he was now. He was terrified and quite tired. Tired of not being able to see Eliot,  _ his _ Eliot, speak and laugh and hug Quentin without thought or care in the world. 

~

 

They stood at the entrance of the Temple of Esna. It had been looted soon after the body of Heka had been laid there; with the stone that the monster, Quentin, and Julia were searching for. Before, Quentin had no desire to assist the monster; in fact, he still did not; however, the idea of rescuing Eliot after securing the monsters original body seemed illuminating, exciting. If he helped the monster he had the possibility of seeing his Eliot again.

“It’s not here, the mummy said,” Quentin stated dully, his voice low and bored. Julia stood beside him; if she moved her hand just the slightest it would brush against Quentin’s. She almost did, Quentin suspected. It was quite understanding that Julia was growing more and more worrisome about her friend; he was dazed, stuck in a trance between living and fracturing. 

“Yes, but it  _ was _ here, so we start here,” Julia said. It was a tourist attraction; people seemed almost to swarm around them; the three standing; stooping, actually; they were not here to snap photos or to involve themselves in a history lesson. The monster, vague and seemingly lost in the midst of its devolved mind, moved toward the temple. Quentin watched it touched the side of the building, near the entrance, tracing its hand -- Eliot’s hand -- along the stone. 

It started humming something; even through the thunder of footsteps, Quentin could hear the subtle tune that the monster croaked out. He hated that it had taken Eliot away from him; his body, his voice, his touch. Eliot touched Quentin all the time; placed his hand softly on Quentin’s shoulder, massaged his back in tense, disrupting moments. Eliot was quite coordinated with his movements; he loved to feel things, touch things, but so did the monster. The monster had wrapped its fingers around Quentin’s throat, the soft finger-pads of Eliot close to tearing away Quentin’s life; and the strange thing was, Quentin was so ready to let it happen. May the monster kill Quentin, kill Eliot too, and they could meet again in the underworld, Quentin believed. He almost wanted the monster to kill him, he was so tired of living with the unbearable pain of a lost lover. 

“I think…” the monster said as he came slowly toward Quentin, “it’s still here.” He came toward Quentin with a gait incomparable to Eliot. Eliot was smooth, almost gliding when he strode; but the monster swaggered. It was disgraceful to the man trapped inside; Eliot would never stand for any of this; the odd movements, the clothes, the lengthy hair, the fact the monster had hardly showered or bathed since he’d taken Eliot’s body as its vessel.

“Okay,” Quentin simply said, gesturing as vaguely as the monster had been stooping only a few moments before.

“What makes you say that?” Julia questioned. She had more ability to act than Quentin; she’d been carrying him around like he was dead-weight. He felt almost imprisoned by himself. It had been Julia helping him through all of this. Finally, for the first time since what felt like forever, Quentin had her by his side again as a friend and companion. 

It happened so that the monster liked to drag out its words, play gleefully like a child, though not merciful and not generous. “Well… it’s warm.” It lifted its hand, Eliot’s hand, and looked at it as if the fingers the monster liked to twiddled around was not attached to its wrist, Eliot’s wrist. Smiling, it raised Eliot’s hand to the sun and stared straight up; its eyes flared. “Or maybe it’s hot… Me not likey.”

“Stop staring at the sun,” Quentin growled. The monster moved its eyes to Quentin and stared smartly at him instead. A subtle “why” flashed in its face. It knew how to provoke Quentin, how to manipulate him; twisting Eliot’s body, shoving narcotics; practically poison; down Eliot’s throat.

“Why? Because you said so?” the monster said cheerfully. “But it’s fun! It’s a big, bright sphere and I like looking at it.” Quentin huffed and the monster replied with a duplicitous grin. It needed a friend; and with that in mind, Quentin could only watch him do the worst he could under the guise of himself to Eliot’s body; but it wouldn’t destroy it. At least, Quentin begged; in the back of his mind; that the monster wouldn’t. 

“Let’s just go in,” Julia interrupted. It seemed she’d had enough of the ear-splitting tension between the two. Quentin could feel the glow of eyes all around him; people from all over the world eavesdropping. It was such a human trait; to snoop on the personal thoughts and conversations and effects of others; unsuspecting others with troubles that no one else could possibly have. He wanted to shove at the people staring; push them away from seeing his descent into anger and madness and neediness. The monster, although only a devious child playing a sick game, knew it was too dangerous to cause bodily harm here, only sneered at Quentin. It was becoming sick of Quentin; “Eliot this” and “Eliot that.” Why? It had asked him. Why do you care so much about this... Eliot? 

The fact was, Quentin cared so much about him because of his overwhelming love for the man. He’d given his full and complete heart to Eliot during the quest when they had spent fifty of their years together trying to find “the beauty of all life.” And they truly had. It was their love; their years spent together, although stressful at times, but also harmonious and Quentin was grateful for the time they had had together. 

Because I do, Quentin had replied. And it was true. He cared so so much. 

“Okay,” Quentin repeated. It was at this time he’d felt he lost the ability to use more than only a few words at a time. He couldn’t calculate his feelings, his opinions; everything now was impulse and unmasking of character. 

The trio walked into the temple, breathless. Quentin walked in behind them all; watching the monster with an intense gaze. Should it do anything, anything at all, here and now, to hurt Eliot, Quentin would bring it down.  _ Fuck the monster _ , he wanted his Eliot back.


End file.
